


Not So Secret Admirer

by Madam_Fandom



Series: Tumblr Prompts [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anthea (Sherlock) is the Best PA, Awkward Boners, Awkward Crush, Dress Up, Eventual Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, First Fight, Gifts, John has a revealation, Lestrade is clever, Lestrade is cool, M/M, Mention of Phillip Anderson - Freeform, Mention of Sally Donovan - Freeform, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft is a Softie, Mycroft is a closet romantic, Mycroft thinks he is being clever, One Year Later, One-Sided Attraction, POV Greg Lestrade, POV Mycroft Holmes, Pre-Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Secret Admirer, Secret Crush, Silver Fox Lestrade, Sugar Daddy Mycroft, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Lust, Unsure Mycroft, Wooing, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-24 12:31:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9726995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madam_Fandom/pseuds/Madam_Fandom
Summary: Second part to my Tumblr Prompt Valentine's Day Shorties. This story is actually a prequel to the story I Accept. The two stories can be read separately. Technically it comes before both Now and I Accept.Lestrade has a secret admirer, only it's not really a secret, he knows who it is.





	1. Chapter 1

[I Accept](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9531833)

 

There was a knock at the office door, “Um, excuse me, Inspector, there is another package for you. Should I bring it in?”

Detective Inspector Lestrade smiled, he was on the phone so he motioned with his hand that the young officer should bring it in.

“I’m telling you, Sherlock, it is quite obvious. Course I’m sure.”

The officer sat a tray down on Lestrade’s desk. It was a box from a local bakery and a large cup of gourmet coffee. That particular establishment didn't even do deliveries. And the coffee was from a place two doors down. These were both favorites of his. Lestrade picked up the small white envelope that was situated in the middle of the tray. He opened and read the short message. It was the same as the dozen or so other envelopes that had accompanied other delivered gifts.

 

**_To the most intriguing of men._ **

**_-Your Secret Admirer_ **

 

Lestrade was positive he knew who was behind all the gifts. And he thought It was both very flattering and funny. He was an evolved man and it didn’t bother him one bit that his secret admirer was a man and none other than Mycroft Holmes.

 

“I was only telling you because I thought you might like to use it as leverage against your brother. Whatever Sherlock, I know you don’t think highly of me but your brother most certainly does. _What?_ No! Of course, I won’t take him up on his offer if he asks. Look I’m flattered by his interest but I have no desire to become your brother in law.” Lestrade laughed loudly at something Sherlock said, “It is _so_ funny. Lighten up, Sherlock. No, no new cases. I’m not holding out on you. I’m not. It’s been pretty quiet around here lately, I’ve even been helping out in other departments. Well, I thought maybe the fact that Valentine's Day is coming up, maybe that might have to do with the lull. Yes, I know it’s tomorrow. Bloody hell. So what you’re saying is, starting tomorrow I should expect a sudden rise in crime? Oh, you just love being the bearer of bad news. Alright, I have to go, little brother, there is someone coming to my office. Lestrade hung up laughing at Sherlock’s indigent outburst.

He studied the person walking towards his office, he didn’t know her, perhaps she was a courier. When she knocked on his door he motioned for her to come in. She was pretty, brown hair, simple business suit. If she was a courier she wasn’t here to deliver anything, the only thing she had in her hands was a mobile phone in which she was currently texting on. “Can I help you?”

Finally looking up she replied, “Ah yes, my employer wanted me to deliver this to you.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out another phone.

Lestrade leaned forward taking the phone from her delicate hand. “And you are?”

“Anthea.”

“Your employer is?”

“You’ll soon find out.”

“All right, thank you, Anthea.”

“You’re welcome, Happy Valentine's Day Greg.”

Lestrade was caught a little off guard, “Uh, thank you. Same to you Anthea.”

 

Looking at the phone Lestrade wondered what Mycroft was up to now. The phone was already powered on and fully charged. Just as he was sliding the phone in his pocket it went off. Sighing, Lestrade pulled the phone back out. There was a message waiting. Clicking on the message Lestrade chuckled.

 

**_Roses are red,_ **

**_Violets are blue,_ **

**_You are most intriguing,_ **

**_I’d like to court you._ **

 

Lestrade figured he should respond, it was the purpose of the phone was it not?

 

**_Roses are pink,_ **

**_Carnations are too,_ **

**_No need for the ploy,_ **

**_I already know you._ **

 

Lestrade waited for a response back, a challenge, that was the Holmes way. When none came Lestrade opened the donuts, eating two before closing it up and walking it out to Donovan and the rest of them.

“Another boss?”

“Yeah, same person.”

“How can you be sure?” Sally asked.

“I didn’t get to where I am because of my good looks. A bit of detective work goes a long way, Donovan.”

She laughed as she picked out a donut and passed the box over to Anderson.

“Hey! Did you take the last custard?”

Sally bit into her pastry, talking with a mouth full she replied, “Yup.”

Shaking his head Lestrade went back in his office and was surprised to find that he had a guest.

 

Mycroft Holmes stood in the middle of his office, one hand in his pocket and the other was on his ever-present umbrella.

How on earth had he gotten in his office unseen? He asked as much.

Mycroft looked around Lestrade’s office with a hint of disapproval on his face. But when his eyes landed on Lestrade, the detective swore he saw something different in his eyes.

“Don’t be silly Inspector, I come and go as I please, and only those I allow to see does.”

 

Lestrade’s desk phone rang. Walking over to it he gave Mycroft his back while he spoke, not seeing the heated look of desire Mycroft raked over him.

When Lestrade got off the phone he turned back towards Mycroft, he noticed the man seemed a tad bit uncomfortable now, he was slightly red in the face and he held his umbrella clasped tightly in front of him.

“I have to go. Was there something you needed or did you just come to try and intimidate me?”

“I suppose, but duty calls, go on about your business Greg, I will be in touch.”

Lestrade was walking past Mycroft and out the office when Mycroft reached out and grabbed his arm. “Yes, Mycroft?”

Mycroft suddenly felt unsure. He dropped his hand and shook his head, “Nevermind Inspector. Hopefully, the Valentine's rush doesn’t keep you _too_ busy.”

“Christ you sound like your brother. You can see yourself out yes?”

“Certainly.”

 

Mycroft stood holding his umbrella in front of him until Lestrade had rushed off. Once he was out of sight he grimaced and gave a low groan. It was probably a bad idea to come here. He now had a hard on to end all hard ons. There was no way he could walk back through the office without causing a scene. It was painfully obvious he was aroused. And in whose office he had been. Not to mention all the gifts he had been sending. He made his way over to Lestrade’s desk intending to ride out his arousal, as soon as it was down he would leave.

Mycroft was just relaxing when Lestrade burst back into his office. Mycroft sat up straight and gave his best "I'm bored" smile.

“What are you still doing here? And in _my_ chair?” Lestrade questioned. He didn’t sound mad or annoyed, just curious. Must be all the years he’d been acquainted with Sherlock. Mycroft must thank his little brother for that.

“I was just trying to get myself acquainted with this sort of office. I was thinking of maybe stepping down from the government work and doing more mundane work. What do you think? Could you see me here?”

Lestrade shook his head. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. I would probably be much too bored here. Besides, I would hate to take away from the fine work you do here.”

 

Lestrade came around the desk and Mycroft quickly dropped his hands in his lap while Lestrade rummaged around in a desk drawer.

“I want you gone by the time I come back. This is _my_ office. My sanctuary.”

“Of course,” Mycroft answered with a prim smile.

 

After about ten minutes Mycroft made his way out of Scotland Yard. Once inside his car, he gave instructions. “Anthea, kindly go on with the rest of my Valentine’s Day plans. I think he was bluffing about knowing.”

“Yes sir. And would you like any changes to be made?”

“Now that you mention it, yes. Instead of a black tie and white shirt, I would like a pale silver shirt and a medium to dark grey tie.”

“Very well sir.”

 

Lestrade got back to the office pretty late. When he entered most of the lights were off and only a few scattered officers remained. He made his way to his office, weary, running a hand over his face before turning on his office light.

What greeted him caught him off guard. There was a large wrapped gift box on his desk along with a greeting card propped up against a potted plant.

This had to be Mycroft. His divorce had only been final for a couple of months, who else would woo him and in such an exaggerated manner? Besides, Mycroft had been there this afternoon. Walking over to the gift he was a bit remiss about opening it. Prior to today, all the gift had been of the food and drink variety. This couldn’t possibly be food and he couldn’t see himself accepting such a costly gift. Lestrade took the lid off of the box, followed by a couple of sheets of tissue paper. He frowned. Inside the box was a black suit, by the looks of it, an extremely fine and expensive suit.

Right on cue, his phone went off. Pulling his phone he realized it wasn’t his phone but the second phone delivered by Anthea this afternoon. It was another text.

 

**_Roses are white,_ **

**_Lily’s are too,_ **

**_Dinner at my place,_ **

**_Say you’ll be there too?_ **

 

Lestrade found himself smiling, who would’ve thought Mycroft Holmes was a romantic?

Lestrade thought a little before sending his reply, he wanted to be clever, but in the end, he was just too tired.

 

**_I don’t think I can accept this gift Mycroft. I’ll attend your dinner, But we need to talk._ **

 

Send.

 

**_I insist. It is a gift._ **

**_I’ll have a driver pick you up tomorrow from your home around 6 pm._ **

 

Lestrade sighed. Placing both phones back in his trouser pocket he picked up the greeting card as well as the gift box, preparing to leave. It would appear he had an interesting day ahead of him tomorrow.

 

“Sherlock I’m serious. I don’t want to hurt your brother’s feelings. How do I let him down easily?”

John was snickering behind his hand, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. “Greg, haven’t you heard? The Holmes brothers don’t have feelings.”

Lestrade saw hurt flash across Sherlock’s face at John’s words.

“Well John, I have it on good authority that that just isn’t true. Mycroft is quite romantic, especially if the gifts I’ve been receiving are any inclination.”

“Or! Or maybe _you_ just bring it out of him.” John grew quiet as if he was contemplating his own words.

 

“Why not just take him up on his offer?” Sherlock asked in all seriousness.

“What? Why? Because I’m not _ready_ for anything and I’m just not attracted to men.”

“Buy it doesn’t bother you that _alledgedly_ , my brother has taken a liking to you?”

“No. Why should it?”

“I’m not saying it should, just that some people aren’t as liberal as you.”

“Unless your brother crosses some kind of line, we’re cool. It’s kinda flattering that one of the most powerful men in the British government has a wee crush on me.”

“If my brother is doing all that you say he is, I’d say it’s more than a wee crush. I’m surprised he didn’t just kidnap you and demand that you two become a couple.”

“You’re not helping. What should I do?”

“If you have no intention of taking him up on whatever offer he presents to you tonight, I’d be just best to tell him. Don’t sugar coat it, just tell him.”

 

At 5:50 Lestrade stood in front of his flat waiting to be picked up for a date with none other than Mycroft Holmes. How weird was this? He  looked down at himself and had to admit that Mycroft had good taste in suits, it fit him very well and the color scheme really complimented him.

He was nervous. He’d never been wooed before, it was nice but he just wasn’t attracted to Mycroft. Sherlock had offered him some parting words. _“Have dinner, don’t spring any unfortunate news until after you eat. And while you are eating contemplate the situation, look at my brother not as a man who is interested in you, but as a person who is interested in you. Notice the good things and the bad things about him. Things you like and things that would drive you crazy. And then, if you can’t see yourself giving him a chance, then tell him.”_

Lestrade could do that.

 

When Lestrade arrived at Mycroft’s estate he was surprised at the sheer magnitude of the place. Mycroft stood in the door at attention, his umbrella swinging in his hand. And Lestrade had to admit Mycroft made an impressive _second_ first impression. He was wearing a navy 3 piece suit, white dress shirt, and peach silk tie.

 

Mycroft was nervous, his hands sweating, heart racing. If he didn’t know better he would think this was far more important to him than he thought. Sure it had been a while since he had allowed himself to enjoy the company of another. But that was no excuse for the way his mouth went dry at the sight of Greg Lestrade getting out of the vehicle. Oh, but the suit did look good on him. He was glad he’d made the small change from a white shirt to pale silver as well as changing the tie from black to grey. It really accentuated Lestrade's hair and tanned skin. Unconsciously Mycroft licked his lips. Lestrade looked absolutely divine. When Lestrade was within earshot Mycroft paid the detective a compliment, “You look _amazing_ Lestrade, that suit really looks great on you.” After a pause, he added, “I told you it would.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Didn’t I? Well, I was definitely thinking it. Besides the act of buying the suit negates the need to actually tell you that you would look great in the suit.”

“All right, I’ll give you that. Thank you by the way. And I must say you look rather handsome as well.”

 

Mycroft tried to make sure he didn’t look too thrilled with Lestrade’s words. He needed to hold on to his air of aloofness. No need to look like a lovesick puppy. “Won’t you follow me, Greg?” I’m really pleased you accepted my invitation. But I must _know_ how on earth did you know it was me? Did coming by the office give me away?”

Lestrade laughed, it was rich and hearty and caused a fluttering in Mycroft’s stomach. Despite himself, Mycroft found himself smiling.

“No, no, it wasn’t you coming by today. I knew almost immediately.”

“But how? I was careful.”

“Yes. But how many men do I know that have prestige, considerable pull in London and notices everything about everything and everyone? Two. You and your brother. And it is so obviously not Sherlock. One, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from gloating about how clever he was. And two, he and John are so crazy for each other it’s a miracle they haven’t made it official yet.”

“How did you know it was a man sending the items? I could’ve been a woman."

"I’m a _detective_ . Sure your baby brother runs circles around me and makes me look like an inept toddler, but I’ve been doing this job for far longer than your brother has been helping me. I notice things and _am_ quite versed in statistics as well. It is very rare for a woman to be as forward and pushy as you have been. Statistically, my admirer would have to be a man. A woman would have left not only food items but letters or poems, maybe even books.”

Mycroft stared at Lestrade. “I see I was quite right about you Inspector. You are clever in your own right.”

 

The men sat down to dinner. Mycroft had a 3-course meal prepared. Lestrade found himself staring at Mycroft when the man wasn’t looking. Mycroft had an agreeable blush that rose up on his cheeks whenever he was caught staring at Lestrade.

Later, they sat down in Mycroft’s office, in front of the fire having after dinner drinks.

Mycroft could feel Lestrade building up to say something he hoped it was in his favor, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be.

“I had a really nice time tonight Mycroft. Thank you. But I must be honest, as flattered as I am by your interest I feel I should tell you I don’t see there being anything more between us. I went into the date tonight with intentions to tell you this, but Sherlock convinced me to go into the date with an open mind instead and base my decision on how I feel at the end of the night. And I’m just not ready. For a relationship with you or anybody else. I’m very sorry.”

Mycroft tried his best to hide his disappointment. He swirled the golden liquid in his glass, took a sip and then smiled at the handsome man sitting across from him. “I appreciate your honesty and you giving this date the old college try. I really enjoyed tonight as well, and it was my pleasure to do all those things for you. The suit looks absolutely fabulous on you. But perhaps, you would be open to a strictly  _physical_ relationship? I admit, it’s not what I had in mind, but I will settle for it if you’re willing.”

Lestrade threw back his head and barked out a laugh. “Because it is such a hardship to sleep with someone you already find attractive. I’m afraid I will have to decline that offer as well.”

“Very well. Thank you for a lovely evening, Greg. I will have my driver take you home.”

 

Mycroft stood up and lead Lestrade back to the front door. “Are you sure you won’t take me up on my offer?”

Lestrade gave a kind smile. “Nope, still gonna have to decline Mycroft. Sorry mate.”

“I _will_ have you, Greg. I will keep asking until you finally give in. Goodnight.” Mycroft leaned forward slowly, giving Lestrade a chance to move, when he didn’t he gave him a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“Goodnight and thanks for everything.” Lestrade turned and walked to the car.

 

Almost 8 months passed by and Lestrade still occasionally gets a surprise delivered to his office. And when it arrives he gets heckled and teased by Donovan, Anderson and a few others. But it doesn’t bother him, in fact, it makes him smile. It was nice knowing there was someone out there who thought he was smart, capable, attractive and intriguing. Lestrade wasn’t sure if that was enough to keep Mycroft interested, but apparently, it was. Mycroft continued to text the phone he had given Lestrade once a week to ask anew, _“Changed your mind yet?”_ , _“Can I see you?”_ , _“Can I take you to bed?”_ and many other Mycroft-esq billets-doux. Every blue moon he would actually send a poem written in a different language. After the first one though Lestrade stopped asking other people to translate them for him. It was the iconic poem _To His Coy Mistress by Andrew Marvell_ but in Italian. When he’d had one of the officers translate for him he’d been told that someone was indeed sending him billets-doux, it was then he learned that particular term, along with finding out that poem was considered iconic, he had never heard of it before. But he had to admit it was very nice. His growing, but unique friendship with Mycroft Holmes was changing him just a bit, he was a little more refined, a little more knowledgeable.

 

Mycroft was slowly showing him who he was and allowing him to get to know him from afar. He hoped it would make the other man feel comfortable with him and possibly take him up on his offer. Mycroft had never shared this part of himself with anyone else, not even his dear baby brother. He wasn’t even sure why he was sharing it with Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade. He only hoped his gamble would eventually pay off and Lestrade would choose him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year later...

Lestrade held a heavily breathing Mycroft in his arms. He too was out of breath. They had just finished making love. It was Valentine's Day Eve if there was such a thing.

Lestrade was absently running a finger up and down Mycroft’s arm. It had been a year to almost the day since Mycroft had propositioned him. And he had something special planned for them tomorrow. Their schedules were so hectic that they had to fight for every moment they spent together. Had anyone asked him a year ago if he could see himself dating a man, and Mycroft Holmes of all people, he would have given a loud and resounding no. The two of them had been seeing each other for 4 months now. And sure they had their ups and downs, but for the most part, Lestrade had thoroughly enjoyed the past several months.

 

Mycroft sighed and rolled over wrapping his arm around Lestrade’s middle. Tomorrow was Valentine's Day, a year since their first date. He couldn't begin to put into words how happy he was. His little brother was happily involved with his soulmate, and he didn't use that term lightly. He couldn’t picture a better-suited person for Sherlock than John Watson. And he himself was in a beautifully evolving relationship with the gorgeous man next to him. His only complaint would be that they didn’t spend enough time together. Both of their schedules were unpredictable and chaotic. He knew Lestrade hated when he was away, he was a family man at heart. But the beauty of their partnership was that they were so evenly matched. In just about everything; temperament, sex drive, romanticisms and more. They were both mature and talked their problems out, but they both still had a lot to learn, not only about each other but about being in a relationship with each other. Like Mycroft himself had never been in any serious committed relationships, his were usually just physical. And the dynamics of that type of relationship vastly differed from the one he was currently in. Just like Lestrade still had some hang-ups from his failed marriage. Mycroft had a secretive job and at times Lestrade got suspicious and would get grumpy. He also needed to speak up more about things he wanted or didn’t want, especially the smaller things. He tended to give more and Mycroft took. It was both their natures and they needed to learn how to be more like the other.

Mycroft was definitely the more romantic of the two. He would plan special outings and he still sent him gifts to the job. Orders of lunch or dinner when he knew Lestrade was working late or on a particularly trying case. He read him poetry and sent him corny little love letters. He was a man of action. Whereas surprisingly, Lestrade was a man of words. He told Mycroft all the time how special he was to him. How he felt about him, so on and so forth. Again, they complimented each other very well.

 

Considering this was their first Valentine’s Day as a couple, Mycroft wasn’t sure if he should make a big deal out of it or not. Lestrade always seemed to appreciate his efforts, and he didn’t want to disappoint him. And Mycroft only hesitated because he was aware that he’d already been half in love with Lestrade when they had first slept together, how could he not be? Lestrade was an exceptional man. But he did have a backup plan for tomorrow just in case.

 

Lestrade placed a kiss to Mycroft’s temple. “You were fucking amazing tonight.”

“Aren’t I amazing _every_ night?”

“You cocky Bastard, course you are. You working tomorrow?”

“I work every day in some capacity. As of right now, there is nothing pressing.”

“Yeah, I’m in the middle of a joint investigation, but nothing I can’t shake off.”

“We should’ve celebrated Valentine's Day today, just in case, neither of our schedules are predictable.” Mycroft was fishing for a reaction to see if he should do something.

“True.” was all that Lestrade said.

Mycroft gave himself a mental reminder to text Anthea in the morning to proceed with plan 1A.

 

Lestrade woke up an hour earlier than he normally did so he could make sure he could put his plan in action before Mycroft woke up. He snuck off to the kitchen. Since he had been staying over the refrigerator was now always stocked and was able to easily hide the three flowers he had for Mycroft.

Lestrade fished the greeting card with instructions for the night from underneath the cushions of one of the couches in the formal sitting room. Sitting everything on a side table in the hallway, Lestrade hurriedly showered and dressed for work. Quietly he placed the card and roses, one red, one white and one pink on his empty pillow and left.

 

Mycroft woke up to an empty bed, well not exactly true. There were 3 roses laying on Lestrade’s pillow. Seeing the roses made him glad that he had waited until Lestrade had fallen asleep to text Anthea, he could be confident that his surprise waited for Lestrade at the office. Mycroft picked up the 3 flowers and went in search for a small vase. Mycroft was pleased that he hadn’t made a huge deal of the holiday. It seemed that Lestrade hadn’t either. The three roses were sufficient for Mycroft anyways, he knew the red rose traditionally stood for passionate love, the pink for friendship and the white for purity. He was certain Lestrade knew as well, it would have been far simpler to just get 3 of one color.

Mycroft smiled as he thought about how Lestrade would react when saw his two surprises, one at the office and one when he got back home tonight. Mycroft rushed off to shower and get dressed for the day. His housekeeper would be in shortly and he had awakened to a text from Anthea that needed his immediate attention.

 

Lestrade walked into the precinct and knew immediately something was up. Everyone was far too focused and doing their best to ignore him. The gifts had never really stopped and they all knew he was seeing someone now, they just didn’t know who. Mycroft kept his distance from the place he only visited if Lestrade was alone in his department. Or sometimes a quick visit out front in his car.

As he approached his office his mouth dropped, there were red and white roses all over. And a greeting card awaited him on the desk. It was a blank silver colored card with no words on the front, simply a large G and M in calligraphy. On the inside was a short poem, reminiscent of the first juvenile style poems Mycroft had written him.

 

**Roses are red,**

**And sometimes white,**

**I am so glad you are here,**

**And apart of my life.**

**Truly and Sincerely Yours,**

**Mycroft**

 

Mycroft was always doing sweet and romantic gestures. But this really touched Lestrade because it really drove home how far the two of them had come. He couldn’t wait for tonight when he could show Mycroft just how much he cared for him.

 

At 7:30 pm Lestrade sat at a table in the back of an upscale restaurant. He was wearing the suit that Mycroft had given him a year ago. He’d left instruction in the card for Mycroft to meet him here at 6:45 pm wearing the suit he had worn on their date last year. But here he was almost an hour later and no sign or even a call from Mycroft. Mycroft was usually very considerate when he was running late or unable to make a scheduled engagement. At this point, even if Mycroft showed up they wouldn’t make the screening of the silent film down at the cinema, and he knew Mycroft would have really enjoyed that. Lestrade didn’t like to call or text Mycroft, he didn’t want to be a distraction. But at the hour and fifteen minutes mark, Lestrade called Mycroft. He got his generic voicemail message. He decided to send a text too for good measure. As he was sending the message a waiter came and informed him that if he was not going to order anything he would need to leave. They had others waiting with reservations.

Lestrade got up from the table in a huff almost knocking the chair over. He was not only embarrassed he was angry. He knew Mycroft held a major position in the British government, but this was supposed to be a special night for them and he could’ve sent word even through Anthea at any time.

 

Instead of driving back to Mycroft’s place, Lestrade drove home. He was hurt and didn’t really want to be there when Mycroft finally made it home. Today turned out to be really lousy.

 

Mycroft came home to find the 50 long stem roses he had bought for Lestrade scattered around the house in various vases. It was pretty late so he made his way straight up to his room expecting to find Lestrade there, possibly sleep.

But his room was empty and left exactly as it had been this morning. Taking out his phone to call Lestrade he saw he had a missed call and text from him, it was unlike Lestrade to contact him while he was working. Mycroft opened the text message and read it; he didn’t understand.

 

**Lestrade: Where are you? You’re an hour and 15 mins late. Could you at least let me know if you can’t make it?**

 

What in the world was Lestrade referring to? Perhaps he had made plans after all for them and when Mycroft didn’t come home he left. Mycroft looked around, no, Lestrade hadn’t been back here, he, himself had arranged for the roses to be brought here so they weren't in Lestrade’s way.

So where had he been waiting on Mycroft at and why didn’t Mycroft know about it? He sent a quick text to Anthea.

 

**Mycroft: Did Greg call or text you any information on plans he may have had for us tonight?**

 

Mycroft didn’t have to wait long for a response, he could always count on Anthea to respond. And because of that, Mycroft tried to be considerate of her life outside of work.

 

**Anthea: No.**

 

Dammit. What was he missing? This was their first Valentine's Day as a couple, he should have gone all out. 50 roses weren't enough. He should have taken Lestrade out to a sporting event and dinner and then somewhere romantic and then back home where he made love to him until they were both exhausted. And then finally, reveal to him his final surprise.

 

Mycroft began stripping the bed since Lestrade had started sleeping over most nights he had told his housekeeper he would clean and change his own sheets. As he was tucking the clean sheets in around the bottom of the mattress he saw an envelope between the headboard and mattress. Pulling it out and opening it, Mycroft suddenly understood and felt like a complete arse. It was his Valentine's Day card from Greg. It had been requested that he wear his suit from their first date and meet him at a restaurant, and then from there, Lestrade had been planning on taking Mycroft to a silent film he’d been wanting to see. The card must’ve fallen between the headboard and mattress while he’d been sleeping. Lestrade must think Mycroft stood him up and his poor, sensitive, insecure love was left thinking the worst.

Mycroft finished making the bed. He was going to shower and go to sleep. He would call Lestrade in the morning and explain what happened. It was much too late to call him now.

 

When Mycroft was finished with his shower he saw that he had a message from Anthea.

 

**Anthea: Should I send an apology basket?**

 

**Mycroft: I don't think that will be sufficient. Send some lilies and some liver and onions.**

 

**Anthea: I’m sorry sir.**

 

Mycroft tossed his phone on the empty side of the bed. He couldn’t wait for the morning so he could call Lestrade and explain.

 

Lestrade’s office smelled heavenly when he got there, but when he turned on the lights and saw a vase of lilies and a note atop the food that read

 

**Sorry about last night.**

 

Lestrade lost his appetite. He took the food out to Anderson, he knew Donovan didn’t really like liver. The lilies he took to their break room. He couldn’t bring himself to throw them away but he couldn’t look at them all day either.

As he was passing Sally on his way back to his office she asked, “Trouble in paradise boss?”

Lestrade shot Sally a glare. She was always so nosey and quite insensitive. Without replying Lestrade proceeded to his office. As soon as he sat down his phone started to ring. He still carried the phone Mycroft had given him. Mycroft had said he’d given him that phone because he didn’t want to interfere with any of his investigations by tying up his phone. This was the phone in which was currently ringing. He tossed the phone into his bottom drawer. The bastard knew his schedule so well.

When he heard the phone ring 4 more times he started to worry. What if Mycroft had gotten hurt? Nah, Anthea would’ve come here or his home to deliver the message in person. Or Sherlock. Shaking off the thought he reached in the drawer and turned off the phone. Ten minutes later his office phone started ringing. The caller I.D. said Restricted, which meant Mycroft. He ignored it. By the third call to his office, he was on edge and needed to get out. He grabbed the keys for his company vehicle, told Sally he was going to the Wentworth crime scene. When she stood grabbing her jacket he stopped her. “I need to go alone. Clear my head a bit.”

 

Mycroft paced back and forth in his office at the Diogenes Club. Why on earth was Lestrade being so bloody difficult? Why couldn’t he just answer the phone and let him apologize? Mycroft had tapped into the surveillance at Scotland Yard and he saw how angry and sad that Lestrade seemed when he took the lilies to the precinct’s kitchen. He’d even given the food to Anderson. Greg loved liver and onions. And now his phone was off and he had left Scotland Yard. Mycroft couldn’t show up to the crime scene, it was too public, plus he still had the issue from yesterday he needed to desperately deal with. But instead of concentrating on his work, a time sensitive matter, he was pacing his office worried about his boyfriend. This was why he’d given up trying to have both a career and a personal life. One always caused him to neglect the other. Which was one of the things he had appreciated the most about Lestrade and his relationship. They were on the same page, knew there just wasn’t enough hours in the day and sometimes work had to take precedence over your personal life.

So why was he so upset about last night? Was it because it was a holiday? Mycroft was deeply regretful and he needed to know where he had gone wrong.

 

More than two days had passed and Lestrade was absolutely miserable. He refused to take any of Mycroft’s calls. Anthea had shown up to Scotland Yard late last night; Lestrade had asked was Mycroft okay, and when she said that he was physically well, Lestrade asked her to leave. He refused to be the party that always caved first, always compromised and sacrificed for the sake of a relationship. It helped that the current case kept him busy, but not getting much sleep only added to him being grouchy and irritable.

 

Mycroft was in his home office. He’d just finished with the pressing business that had kept him indisposed the past couple of days. He still hadn’t spoken to Lestrade and it was killing him, especially since he knew it was his fault. He tossed a dart at the wall, groaning miserably when it didn't even pierce the board but simply tumbled to the ground.

Picking up the phone he called Sherlock. He hated dragging his little brother into his personal issues, but he didn’t know what to do about Greg, and Sherlock had known him far longer.

 

“Hello, brother mine.”

“What do you want Mycroft. It is unlike you to contact me, especially since you have been happily shagging Lestrade.”

“Don’t be so crude. But that is the reason I am calling.”

“Because I’m crude or because you’re happily shagging Lestrade? If it’s the latter I rather not know about it.”

“No. I’m calling because I’ve messed up and I haven’t talked to Lestrade in two almost three days now. I don’t know what to do.”

“You must be desperate if you’re asking me. Have you tried calling him?”

“Yes Sherlock, if you aren’t going to take this seriously put John on the phone.”

“Oh sorry brother dear, John is out at the moment.”

“Course he is.”

“Well, my experience with Lestrade and his wife is that he'll give in, he always gives in.”

“But that is what you do not understand Sherlock, Greg is not the same man he was with his wife. He has actively avoided all attempts at contact. He even told Anthea to leave his office.”

“Give him time. He’ll come around brother, I’m sure of it.”

 

Mycroft hung up the phone. He would do the opposite of what Sherlock said. He would keep trying to make contact. He missed Lestrade.

 

The next morning Lestrade got to the office a little early, no one but the skeleton crew would be in. He was tired but he couldn’t sit at home pretending to sleep any longer, so why not work? He’d even contemplated driving over to Mycroft's instead of work, but in the end, his new found stubbornness prevented him from doing so.

Shuffling into his office he threw on the light and was greeted by a sleeping Mycroft. He was hunched over his desk, snoring slightly. He was wearing his usual attire of a suit, but it was extremely wrinkled and his hair was unkempt. Lestrade suddenly feeling angry again, he lifted a heavy binder and dropped it on the end of his desk making a loud, resounding  _clack_ that reverberated through the quiet office.

He watched as Mycroft startled awake, when his eyes landed on Lestrade he scrambled to his feet. Lestrade had to admit, Mycroft looked horrible.

“Please, just hear me out.”

“You’ve been here all night?”

“Since 3 am. Greg, I never saw the card until I got home that night. It had fallen behind the bed. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t answer your phone or respond to my text. Even once you found the card you could’ve made it right. But you didn’t.”

“I thought that I would speak with you in the morning. I didn’t want to disturb your sleep. Greg,” Mycroft rounded the desk and walked towards Lestrade, hands out in a silent plea. “I woke up to your roses and an emergency at work. I didn’t get home until really late which is when I saw the text and missed call. I just finished dealing with that emergency situation late yesterday afternoon. You have to believe me. I am very, very sorry. _Please_ forgive me? I’ve been miserable without you.”

Lestrade felt close to crying. Mycroft didn’t beg, he didn't show much emotion, he didn’t appear out in public looking less than A+, and he didn’t allow his personal life to become public. Yet here he was doing all of the above, for him. Was it considered giving in when Mycroft apologized first? He really missed the old chav.

Lestrade closed the distance between the two them, pulling the disheveled Mycroft into a tight embrace.

Mycroft saw over Lestrade’s shoulder that they had an audience, but he didn’t care at the moment, he was too happy to have Lestrade back, it may have only been a couple of days, but it had felt like weeks had passed.

Lestrade pulled back slightly looking into Mycroft’s eyes before giving him a quick kiss.

“Don’t you ever treat me like I don’t matter again you bastard.”

Mycroft heard the obvious affection in his voice as he was pulled into another hug.

“I mean it Myc, I love you and if you treat me like I don’t matter, I’m gone. I can’t go through that again.”

A single tear escaped Mycroft's eye at Lestrade's words. “I love you too Greg.”

 

Lestrade stiffened. He hadn’t meant to say that, not yet. But hearing it said back made it all worth wild. He kissed Mycroft again, telling him without words how much he missed him. When he heard clapping he pulled away abruptly. He rested his forehead against Mycroft's, “Bloody Hell. Why didn’t you warn me? I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care Greg.”

“Can you use your pull to have me transferred? I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle their teasing for the next ten years.”

“Of course I can. Anything for you.”

Lestrade smiled. “That’s okay. I think I can stomach their teasing for a little while longer. I think I’ll save that favor for something else.”

 

“No wonder you kept your partner a secret, he’s a bloody Holmes.”

Lestrade groaned dramatically as he turned to face Sgt. Donovan.

“I didn’t keep it secret because I'm ashamed of Mycroft,” Lestrade reached back and took Mycroft’s hand, “I kept it secret because Mycroft didn’t want it out.”

“Why, who would be ashamed of you? You’re a right good man, don’t know why you put up with your shabby wife for so long.”

Mycroft cleared his throat, “I’m not now, nor have I ever been ashamed of Greg, I’m just a private person.”

“But not anymore? You saw us when we first entered. You even slept here to-”

“That’s enough Sally.”

“Sometimes you have to learn the hard way what is important to you,” Mycroft said quietly.

“Since you, Holmeses are so special maybe I should get me one, you got another one hiding somewhere?”

Mycroft cleared his throat and straightened even more than he already was, “'Fraid not.”

“Pity.”

“Well Greg I know you have work to tend to, won’t you stop by the house when you’re done? I still have one Valentine’s surprise to show you.”

“Sure.”

Mycroft let go of Lestrade’s hand and retrieved his umbrella from the desk.

 

“Hey, you’ve been sleeping like crap, all that’s left to do on the Wentworth case is paperwork, I’ll handle it. Go on. We’ll call if something comes up. Promise.”

Lestrade grabbed Donovan by her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead. “Bless you, Sal.”

 

“Yes, now we must walk through the peanut gallery.”

“Sort of feels like the walk of shame, huh?”

Mycroft looked at Sgt. Donovan, “Walk of shame? I’m not familiar with that term.”

“Uh, come on, I’ll explain in the car.”

 

Lestrade grabbed his “Mycroft” phone from the drawer before following Sally and Mycroft out of his office. Much to his chagrin, he got a couple of slaps on the back and some wolf whistles.

 

Back at Mycroft's, Lestrade was relaxing in the bed when Mycroft entered in his dressing gown, fresh from the shower.

Mycroft stopped in front of Lestrade. “Are you ready for your last surprise?” he asked cheekily, knowing how Lestrade would interpret his question.

“Oh yeah. Come to Papa Greg.”

Mycroft chuckled, turning his back to Lestrade he dropped his dressing gown. Based on the silence in the room Mycroft could tell Lestrade was surprised.

“Bastard,” Lestrade whispered, drawing the word out.

“Do you like it?” Mycroft questioned, not fully sure he had made the right move.

“Damn right. Come here.”

Mycroft climbed on the bed, laying on his stomach so Lestrade could really admire his gift.

“Does it still hurt?”

“No, it’s a bit itchy.”

“I can’t believe you got a tattoo on your arse for me.”

“It seemed well suited.”

“You got _bastard_ tattooed on your arse!”

Mycroft laughed and leaned forward kissing Lestrade quiet.

“Wait until I tell Sherlock.”

“Don’t be silly, where do you think I got the idea from?”

Lestrade's mouth fell open.

“And Dr. Watson did it for me.”


End file.
